Thanks For the Memories
by Toadflame
Summary: 'Thanks for the memories, even though they weren't so great.' Skipper's time with Manfredi and Johnson, and what I think really happened to them.  Oneshot, NOT a songfic.


**This is the story I came up with about my theory of Manfredi and Johnson. My theory:**

Manfredi and Johnson served with Skipper while he was much younger. For some reason (they went rogue), Skipper was forced to kill them. Ashamed and/or unwilling to tell the true tale, the stories about Manfredi and Johnson he tells the other penguins are made up, mostly to teach a lesson or deliver a mild threat. In the episode _Roger Dodger_, Skipper is forced to tell a raging Rico that "I will take out one of my own, just ask Manfredi and Johnson!" The reason Kowalski and Private aren't shocked terribly (Rico wasn't listening at the time) is that they believe it to be another lesson-they have heard so many versions it isn't funny and they don't know how they really died.

**So, this is how Manfredi and Johnson REALLY died, at least according to my theory. If you have a different theory about them you want to share, just let me know in a review, I'd love to hear it! This is a oneshot, mostly because I didn't want to drag it out too long as I have a habit of doing.**

* * *

"Hey, Eddie, behind you!" an older penguin called from the sidelines.

Edward, called Eddie and codenamed Skipper, spiraled himself in midair, garnering a quick peek behind him. He saw what was the cause for warning-a large bowling ball on the end of fishing string was sailing toward him, and gaining ground on him.

As soon as it was nearly upon him, Skipper angled for the ground, much steeper than his descent already. The ball sailed over him, and for a moment Skipper thought he had beaten the ball, finally, but was sorely disappointed when he realized that he was flying through the air as well, ascending once again.

He smashed into the padded wall behind the finish line, sliding down to the muffled chuckles of his classmates.

The older penguin came over, shaking his head. "Eddie, you OK?" he asked, offering a flipper to help the younger up.

Skipper bristled. Everyone called him Eddie, much to his annoyance; only his mother was allowed the privilege. "I'm Edward, or Skipper. Please," he added, attempting politeness. "And I'm fine, Coach." To prove it, he pushed himself up, wobbling only a little.

Coach chuckled. "OK then, but I won't stop calling you Eddie until the people here you call your classmates do as well."

Skipper looked down, knowing it would never happen. His best friends Manfredi and Johnson (their real names, weird enough to be their codenames as well) would always call him Eddie, except in the field-a real name could be deadly for those trained in covert operations.

"Chin up, kid," Coach said, ruffling the feathers upon the trainee's head. "It isn't so bad. Think of what we could call you."

Skipper didn't want to think about that, so he kept silent, even as he watched the others go through their runs.

He grinned as he saw Manfredi go through the course, nearly falling off the balance log before finally succumbing to the spike pit.

"Tough course today, eh?" the slightly older penguin quipped to Skipper, watching a few others run through.

"No harder than usual," Skipper acknowledged, boiling inside. He knew Manfredi was only trying to make him feel better, knew that the older could have gotten through the course easily, but chose instead to make a first year's mistake of spitting on his fins before taking the rope over the pit; the liquid caused the feathers to become more slick than usual and slide down the rather short rope.

"There's Johnson, Eddie," Manfredi whooped, pointing at the third of their trio.

Indeed, the lanky penguin was at the beginning, pushing off in a slide in an attempt to gain a faster time to the course.

Skipper watched in envy, taking note of how his friend dealt with the bowling ball. He was startled to realize that Johnson took the dive much earlier, with the ball just ruffling his tail feathers.

"Why would you start the dive earlier, man?" Skipper cried to him.

Johnson shrugged. "Because it saves me from the wall," he needled, nudging the dejected penguin. "Cheer up, Eddie. At least you made it farther than Manfredi."

The older mock-glared at the two younger penguins. "All right, all right," Coach interrupted, coming over. "You three are all done. I'll give your performance reviews tomorrow." He ushered them out of the gym. "It's time for that grub they call a lunch in this academy. Let's go!"

* * *

Skipper stood between Manfredi and Johnson, their graduation ceremony well on its way. He swallowed as he was called to the front.

"Our Salutatorian, Edward 'Skipper' Kolmann." The clapping in the auditorium was strictly a formality, not many caring for the Salutatorian's speech.

"Speech! Speech! Speech!" Manfredi whooped, the only of them brave enough to yell during a formal event.

He was hushed by several glares and a nudge from Johnson, and he listened in silence while Skipper gave his speech.

Manfredi grinned and patted his friend's back as he stood back in his place, whispering, "That was awesome, Ed! Why didn't you run it past us?"

"I told it to Johnson. I…kinda didn't trust you to not make fun," Skipper whispered, giving in to his urge to blush and tremble.

"Hey, kid, ain't your fault. I probably would have," Manfredi chuckled. "It was awesome though."

"Thanks." The two were shushed, again.

* * *

"Manfredi! Behind you!" Skipper cried, watching his friend's back as the three made their way through the twisting hallways of Dr. Blowhole's lair in Switzerland.

"I got it, I got it, keep an eye on Johnson!" Manfredi called, gesturing ahead.

Indeed, the third of their group was long-since ahead, leaving the two to fend for themselves and help each other the best they could as they navigated the treacherous hallways between the entrance and the room where Blowhole was even now carrying out his plan to take the earth under his control.

"Johnson!" the youngest cried out, voice cracking in his attempt to be heard from the distance.

The tallest of the trio popped to his feet, turning to wave, before sliding along on his belly again.

Finally, the two caught up to their friend, already waiting. "What took you so long?" Johnson joked good-naturedly, turning to help them push open the doors.

"Fools!" Blowhole's voice echoed from within. "You're too late, for my plan is in place. The stage is set; the world will be under my control!"

"Not if we have anything to say about it!" Skipper yelled, aiming right for Blowhole as he leaped into his slide.

"Crabs, get them!" Blowhole barked, turning back to his instruments,

Three overtook Skipper, forcing him to stop and use his skills in karate to take them out. Easy for him, and apparently his teammates as well. Manfredi and Johnson were at his side in an instant.

"I'm down to the last algorithm, you will never be able to stop me!" Blowhole cackled, typing as fast as his fins would allow.

Skipper made to go after the big boss, but was stopped by his friends. "What?" he asked the two. "Come on, we can't let him enslave the earth!"

"You can't. We can," Johnson said dismissively, keeping a hold on one of Skipper's flippers.

"You-you two are working with him? With Blowhole?" The shock was a punch of the gut to Skipper; his friends, the ones he'd known since he was a chick. They'd gone to school together, played together, trained in covert affairs, even stopped many evil plots (getting banned from Denmark in the process), but they were this close, they could take Blowhole out. But they were working for him.

"Yeah. Pays better, too," Manfredi said, turning to speak to Blowhole. But his chance was lost; Skipper, taking Johnson by surprise, twisted him around to push him forward with a foot, and he turned to leap onto Manfredi.

The struggle was the hardest Skipper had ever been in; the full implications hadn't set in, leaving him to try not to harm his friends. However, they put up enough fight to finally let him snap.

With a roar, Skipper fought, not noticing the tears that leaked from his eyes as he pummeled the two he used to call friends. Finally, he was left staring at the two bodies on the cold cement, tears coursing down his face and chest heaving. He turned, only to watch Blowhole punch in a couple more strands.

The rage hadn't left, it had gotten stronger. Stronger from betrayal, stronger from rage, stronger from who knows what; the next thing Skipper was aware of was Blowhole clutching an eye, his chair moving away from the computer. He pulled a detonator.

"If you can't leave well enough alone, little penguin, say goodbye!" Blowhole screeched, pressing the button, dropping it, and racing away as he could.

Skipper watched in slow motion as the detonator clattered to the floor. The training kicked in, driving away the shock in exchange for adrenaline.

In a strange reality, Skipper picked the two broken bodies of his comrades from the ground, trying the best he could to get away. He never made it far.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, leaving them. He slid away, looking back until he saw them no longer.

The shockwave from the building was huge, but Skipper was already in the water headed for the boat that brought three, but would only leave with one.

* * *

"Today, we celebrate the lives of two of our fine agents, Manfredi and Johnson. May their souls rest in peace," the academy director said solemnly to the small gathering.

Only the parents, teachers, and one or two classmates besides Skipper made it. And he'd kept the incident to himself, not wanting to have to tell his best friends'-former best friends, that was-parents that their sons were double agents, bought by money, loyalty, something that Skipper really didn't understand.

The crowd moved off, leaving only Skipper. He waddled up to the headstones.

"Manfredi, Johnson," he choked off. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I just-" Too emotional to continue aloud, he continued silently. _I just didn't know. We were best friends, and I didn't realize._

"Rest in peace," he finally managed, allowing the tears he kept clenched to flow free, thudding onto the dirt.

* * *

_Skipper's Log, Entry 217, June 2005_

_Keeping a log was probably the best thing I could do; it's helped me cope. It's been 148 days since their deaths. Five months. About that anyway._

_I've been reassigned. Going solo isn't cutting it for headquarters. I'm stationed in a zoo, with someone named Kowalski. I can't let him go like Manfredi and Johnson-it'd be too much. I can't let him betray me or his mission. I swear._

_I won't tell him the truth though, that wouldn't do it, I think. It'd just make him afraid of me. I guess I gotta lie about their deaths. Maybe it will teach him a lesson or something; don't do this, don't do that, you'll go like Manfredi and Johnson. Yeah. Something like that._

_Hah, I must just be afraid for my own sake. Skipper out._

The tape cuts just as you hear the hitching, dry sobs of someone who has been crying for ages.

* * *

**It's supposed to be short-ish. And emotional. I hope I conveyed the emotional part. It skips some, but you get the gist of some important parts of their lives. Hope you enjoyed, please review and leave your theory on Manfredi and Johnson if you have one! I'd love to hear others.**

**Yes, I know that it really isn't in character much, or well, but this is supposed to be before Skipper manned up. I'm sure he's more emotional in private (no pun intended) and puts up his tough guy façade for his team. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed…whatever this was!**

**And before anyone questions my sanity, I know penguins can't cry, but we're talking cartoon penguins here. Anything's possible!**


End file.
